


fall from the stars

by acrossdarkspace



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alien Sex, Default Shepard (Mass Effect), Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Happily Ever After, M/M, Reverse Big Bang Challenge, garrus calls him john in private, turned into porn with a little plot, very brief past Kaidan/Shepard, was meant to be plot with a little porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 03:43:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17378930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acrossdarkspace/pseuds/acrossdarkspace
Summary: There are times when Garrus wonders what is so wrong with him that he finds a human, and a male at that, attractive. But then he’ll remember how John would go and blow up a merc base with a grin or rush an entire horde of Collectors by himself or yell at the Council with a snarl in his voice that never fails to send a jolt down Garrus’s spine and, well-- it’s not that much of a mystery after all.





	fall from the stars

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic was supposed to be much muuuuuch longer than it is, but December me decided to sign up for this literally the day before I started my new job that consists of 12 hour shifts. January me has no idea what December me was thinking. This was also supposed to be an exercise in accountability, but instead turned into a mad dash over the past week to write.
> 
> Shout out to the lovely [BethAdastra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BethAdastra/gifts) who made the [ prompt art](http://bethadastra.tumblr.com/post/181891116887/the-mass-effect-reverse-big-bang-is-already-here)! There was just something so sweet and tender about it that I had to write something for it!  
> Title is from the song by the band God Is An Astronaut. I listened to it on repeat as I wrote this. This fic is entirely unbeta'd.

 

 

Sometimes, when Garrus wakes up, it’s from the dreams.

 

Sometimes it’s dreams of the war. Husks and cannibals and marauders swarming people, the ground shaking under the stomps of brutes, the shrieks of banshees, guns firing from every direction, until it all blends into a nonstop rumble in the background that makes it hard to think.

 

Sometimes it’s the memory of the final push on Earth that invades his dreams. The bone jarring roar of the Reapers and the scream of twisting and shredding metal. The harsh bite of pain and the hot gush of blood as shrapnel cuts into his side, and John cradling his scarred mandible and telling him he loves him but leaving anyway because there’s no choice, it’s go or die. Watching him leave, one last look of him backlit against the light of the conduit before Garrus is dragged up the ramp and into medbay by James while the Normandy pulls out of the fight.

 

Sometimes it’s the terrifying what if he dreams of. A cold and lonely life at the beck and call of the Council as a Spectre, or a life filled with red tape and dullness as a C-Sec officer, or even a life where he never left the rigid structure of the Palavan military. A life where there were never any Reapers. A life where he never met John.

 

Sometimes he wakes from the emptiness of being alone in a bed too large for just himself. After a year of not sleeping alone, waking up like this is often times more jarring than the dreams, and sometimes Garrus will lay there and wonder if the past few years were a dream themselves.

 

This time he wakes from the sleepy nuzzle of the warm and naked human cuddled into his side. Garrus glances down to see that John is still asleep, arms and legs wound around him in imitation of the octopus John had once shown him. He had wanted one for his fish tank, and when Garrus had said that the tentacles and suckers freaked him out just a little bit John had laughed at him. In retrospect, it was John’s laugh that had sealed Garrus’s fate.

 

During the two years after John had died Garrus had tried to push down his emotions and continue on. It had worked for a while, but the constant politics and rules of C-Sec eventually wore at him. There were only so many times that he could build a case and hunt a criminal down only to have a silver tongued lawyer get them off on a technicality or another officer letting them go due to a bribe before he’d lose his temper and do something regrettable, so Garrus left. Put in his resignation, broke his lease on his apartment, packed the bare minimum and left the Citadel. He hadn’t planned on ending up on Omega, but it had worked out-- for a time. He had made a name for himself, had a team, was actually making a dent in Omega’s crime much to the amusement of Aria, and had even started being able to think of John without spiraling into a circle of what-if and if-only.

 

Then he had been betrayed by a friend, one of his own team, and lost almost everything. But in the aftermath he had gotten his best friend back. As horrible as it was, as bad of a person as it made him, Garrus would trade his team a hundred times over if it meant he got John back. Being back on the Normandy had brought all those emotions that Garrus had tried to suppress flooding back to the forefront. He was introduced to the new team and shown around the new Normandy, but he had spent most of that first night out of the medbay with John, talking and joking and laughing and Garrus knew that he was in trouble.

 

Because the intervening years hadn’t dampened his feelings, and John coming back from the dead had off balanced him enough that he wasn’t hiding it nearly well enough. He could tell in the way John looked at him that he knew something was up, and wasn’t that a trip that Garrus now knew enough human body language to be able to discern that. But he still kept quiet and soldiered on like a good turian, and kept his feelings to himself.

 

Then Horizon happened, and Garrus watched as the reason and excuse for his silence all but spit at John’s feet and walk away. He knew that there had been an unspoken thing going on between John and the lieutenant and he had thought that once Alenko knew that John was somehow miraculously back from the dead he would join up with the crew again. Instead he had turned his back and left John staring after him with his hurt written clearly across his face, and it was all Garrus could do to stop himself from marching after Alenko and shaking him.

 

The next few weeks had seen John quiet and withdrawn. He planned and fought with the same dedication as always, but there was a spark missing. Garrus did what he could to help, between missions and tweaking the Normandy’s gun battery. He spent whatever time he could with John, sometimes just sitting in silence at they worked on whatever needed to be done, other times telling him stories of his time in the military and C-Sec. He even told him the ‘reach and flexibility’ story, which had resulted in so many jokes at his expense. If he had been paying attention he might have seen the considering looks John would give him, but Garrus was determined to be a good friend to him so he focused on cheering him up. So of course when John propositioned him, he turned into a stuttering mess.

 

Their first time had been both awkward and hilarious. Neither was quite sure where to put what or what to move where, even with the educational vids and datapads Mordin had all but forced on them. But then Garrus had rolled John under him and John had arched up into him and they slid together and found a rhythm that worked. The had rocked against each other, forehead to forehead, grasping at one another until they each had broken apart. In the aftermath Garrus had felt truly content for the first time in a long while.

 

He had thought it would be a one off or an occasional thing, nothing truly serious, but they spent more and more time together as the weeks went by until it was the night before they hit the Omega 4 relay and Garrus realized that he had all but moved into John’s cabin. When he had tentatively brought this up John had laughed at him, finding genuine amusement in how oblivious he had been. That night had been the first time John told him he loved him.

 

The following six months after they survived the suicide mission were some of the longest Garrus had ever had to endure. He was stuck on Palaven, trying desperately to get someone to listen to him about the Reapers, and John was locked up on Earth trying to do the exact same. When the Reaper finally did hit it was a relief. It was horror and destruction, but now they had everyone’s attention and people were actually doing something about it, and he was finally able to join up with John again.

 

Those desperate months between Menae and Earth, never knowing whether or not that particular day would be their last, just cemented how seriously Garrus felt about John. Somehow, even with all the destruction and terror, the past year had been the best of his life so far, and he’s looking forward to see how much better it could become in the future.

 

He has all these hopes and plans, and they are all anchored to the human who is currently doing his best impression of an sleep mussed octopus. Just the sight of him makes Garrus want to start either chirping or purring. It’s embarrassing, but worth it.

 

There are times when Garrus wonders what is so wrong with him that he finds a human, and a male at that, attractive. But then he’ll remember how John would go and blow up a merc base with a grin or rush an entire horde of Collectors by himself or yell at the Council with a snarl in his voice that never fails to send a jolt down Garrus’s spine and, well-- it’s not that much of a mystery after all.

 

“I can hear you thinking,” a sleepy mumble says, breaking him out of his musing of the past. Garrus looks down again, and this time it’s to meet a sleepy blue gaze and a smile. “Fantasizing about all the calibrations you have planned for today?” John teases, and Garrus lightly bumps his head into John’s in playful retaliation. 

 

“No,” Garrus replies, “Just thinking about you.”

 

“Oh?” John replies nonchalantly, eyes sharpening and smile turning into a smirk.

 

“Mmm,” Garrus rumbles, “Admiral John Shepard. Do you think we should have a party to celebrate? I mean, your dancing might get you busted back down to ensign if Hackett sees it, but I’m game if you are.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, big guy,” John rolls his eyes and then goes to roll out of bed, but Garrus plasters himself along his back and tucks his face into John’s neck, nosing along the curve of where it meets his shoulder. John shivers, and Garrus grins smugly into his neck.

 

“Now what are you thinking about?” John asks, his voice just a shade rougher, and instead of responding Garrus trails the tip of his tongue from bottom of John’s jugular to his jaw. John shudders, and Garrus rumbles, “I’m thinking there are other ways to celebrate your promotion.” John twists around and curls a hand just under Garrus’s crest and presses a demanding kiss to Garrus’s mouth while throwing a leg overtop him. Garrus uses the opportunity to shift his weight forward and roll on top of John, nuzzling and licking down his neck and chest. Blunted talons lightly rake across John’s ribs and down his abs and he arches up into it, encouraging Garrus to follow the path his hands had just made.

 

He trails down John’s body, giving little licks here and there, until he’s cradled between his thighs and nosing at John’s cock. John’s breath hitches and he reaches down to cradle the scarred mandible gently, stroking his thumb along the ridges. There’s a pause as they look at each other, soaking in the tenderness of the moment, before Garrus turns back to the task at hand.

 

“I’m so glad we’re not allergic to each o _ther_ \--” John’s voice breaks, and Garrus pulls his tongue away from where it’s wrapped around the tip of his cock. “I’m sorry, were you saying something?” John just swears at him and Garrus laughs. Having a somewhat prehensile tongue comes in handy more often than he thought it would have.

 

“Are you just going to torture me?” John pants as Garrus twists his tongue up and around the base, one hand pinning John’s hips to the mattress while the other strokes his thigh.

 

“I’m rewarding you. After all, you worked so hard for this promotion. You united the galaxy, destroyed the reapers, hell you even made the brave and daring Archangel fall head over heels at your feet for you.”

 

John raises an eyebrow, still somehow giving an air of command even as he’s at the mercy of Garrus. “If you wanted to reward me, you’d use that reach of yours and get me the lube.”

 

Garrus snorts and shifts forward, using the opportunity to grind his slit into John’s cock. As he fumbles for the bottle of lube the bedside table he feels nimble finders slip down his body and stroke across his slit. He gasps and squeezes the bottle so hard it almost spills when when those fingers dip inside, lightly stroking the head of his cock until it unsheathes. 

 

“Having trouble, General Vakarian?” John purrs.

 

“I’ll give you trouble,” Garrus snarls back at him at just the right octave to make him shudder, then ruts his now exposed cock against John’s until he’s moaning and arching against him, hands grasping at the plating on his back, before pulling back and dropping the bottle of lube on John’s chest.

 

And isn’t that a sight, with his thighs sprawled apart and his cock lying stiff and red against his belly, wearing a glare that could melt lead. It’s so adorable that Garrus chirps before he can stop himself.

 

“You’re lucky that you’re too damn cute to stay mad at,” John grumps, flicking open the lube cap one handed and smearing some across his fingers of the other hand. He hitches one leg up with his free and pushes a lubed finger into himself. His head drops back and he moans, and Garrus eyes the stretched expanse of skin with interest and strokes at John’s thighs from where he’s sitting between them.

 

“I could help with that.”

 

“I don’t care if turians don’t think it’s gross, if you stick your tongue in my ass we will have words, and those words will be ‘you are sleeping on the couch’,” John warns.

 

“Mmmm, maybe next time.”

 

“How about never,” John growls, then hisses as he adds another finger. It’s heady sort of power, watching this powerful and commanding man twist on his own fingers getting himself ready for him.

 

There’s no way for him to help with his hands, even with blunted talons, so he leans forward and kisses John the human way, letting his tongue curl around the other as he hitches John’s leg over his hip and trails his talons over the sensitive flesh of John’s inner thighs.

 

John twitches, then pulls his fingers out and grabs Garrus by the hips, uncaring of the lube being smeared. “That’s good enough, come here.”

 

“Sir, yes sir,” Garrus laughs, and nudges John’s legs apart farther and settles between them. John growls at him and Garrus presses the tapered head of his cock against John’s opening and slides in easily. Between the lube and his own slick the entry is frictionless, and the tightness makes his subvocals twang, and John groans and rocks his hips upwards at the sound. His grip on Garrus’s hips is desperate, trying to urge Garrus to move, but Garrus just lets himself sink even further and tucks his head down next to John’s.

 

“Garrus, come _on_ \--” John bites back a cry as Garrus slides that final inch in.

 

“Relax, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Garrus murmurs, and begins to rock slowly, ignoring the way John’s hands clench and urge him to go faster. It’s hard to keep a slow pace though, with John doing his utmost best to writhe under Garrus’s pinning weight. He enjoys this steady and even pace, slowly breaking down John’s composure until he’s giving little cries and gasps as Garrus fucks him. It’s intoxicating, watching John’s head fall back and his cock bounce with each thrust and he clings desperately to Garrus.

 

“Touch yourself, baby,” Garrus purrs into John’s ear, tongue sneaking out to lap at his throat, and John groans, “If I do I’ll come.”

 

“Good,” Garrus growls with just a hint of teeth and John moans, hand slipping from Garrus’s hip to reach between them. Garrus can feel how hard John is between them and figures he’s teased John enough. He quickens his thrusts and listens with supreme male satisfaction as John’s breath gets forced out with each smack of his hips against his ass. He knows the instant John wraps his hand around himself, his body going rigid and his moans turning to whimpers.

 

“Come for me, sweetheart,” Garrus murmurs in John’s ear, rumbling his vocals in the way he knows affects John the most, and Garrus feeling warmth spurt between them as John seizes up. Feeling him clench around him and whimpering his name is too much.

 

There’s that one moment of almost stillness, teetering on the edge of too much and not enough, and then Garrus falls down on the other side of it so hard he cries out, hips stuttering and head spinning and subvocals flanging as he comes. 

 

They lay sprawled out together in the aftermath, neither having the energy to clean up.

 

“Have you thought about what comes after admiral? Ever plan on retiring and letting someone else terrorize the galaxy?” Garrus asks after a while, wondering how to put his earlier mental wanderings into words.

 

John snorts, looking over at him with a smile a touch too soft to be completely playful.

 

“Tell you what, Garrus, when you become Primarch, I’ll retire. I’ll wear nothing but cute little booty shorts and scamper around the house and you can have me whichever way you want when you come home from a long day at the office. “

 

Garrus feels his breath catch, not at the fantasy that John is painting for him, but at the thought of being able to come home to John. Of having an actual home with him, of being able to see him every day without worry of duty or politics pulling them apart. Ever since the end of the war Garrus had felt the pull of his responsibility to his people more and more, and this was a compromise he could live with.

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay what?” John turns his head and looks at him.

 

“I mean, it probably won’t be for at least another decade, but deal. “

 

John is staring at his, eyes wide. “You’re serious. You’d actually accept the position.”

 

“You know me, always eager to do my civic duty,” Garrus shrugs with a bit of self consciousness. “But not without you. It’s nothing without you.”

 

John smiles and shifts forward, rubbing their cheeks and noses together in a turian kiss.

 

“Okay, deal.”

 

A few hours later, just as the Normandy starts livening up for the day cycle, they’re still naked and curled up in bed. John sits in between the cradle of Garrus’s legs, snuggled back into his embrace as they muse over their plans for happily ever after.

 

Garrus thinks that maybe their happily ever after has already started.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Keep your eyes peeled for a sequel. Primarch Vakarian and retired Admiral Shepard, anyone?


End file.
